


The White King

by TheZev



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Evil, Anal Sex, Dominance, Exhibitionism, F/M, Public Humiliation, S&M, Semi-Public Sex, Submission
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-04-08 09:50:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19104694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheZev/pseuds/TheZev
Summary: After taking over the Hellfire Club, Scott Summers enjoys his new position as the White King. Most especially the White Queen.





	1. Chapter 1

Scott watched Emma brush her hair, still wet from the shower, her only adornment a fluffy towel wrapped around her perfect body, white of course. Of all her beauty routines, this was probably her most conventional, but she livened it up. She had _that_ down to a science.

 

Every time she passed the comb through her hair, her arm raised up and almost made her large, gorgeous breasts slip out of the towel, which was tied almost precisely halfway up the slopes of her bosom. The fact that the towel was too short to cover all of her cleavage did not at all mean that her creamy ass and long legs were covered. No, Emma must have precisely measured the towel to ensure that wouldn’t be the case. With each brushstroke, it minutely lifted to show the lowermost curve of her ass, already pressing deliciously out into the concealing towel, as well as the wispy fringe of the pubic hair between her thighs.

 

It all made Scott powerfully aroused, and that amused Emma as much as it would inevitably please her. A sex maniac was fun, but a sex maniac who wore the mask of a responsible leader, a long-suffering martyr, a paragon of self-control? That was _novel._ Emma adored novelty. She adored Scott too, of course, but adoration was much easier when it came with regular orgasms.

 

This evening, though, Scott wasn’t in the mood to be manipulated. “Doug Preston got into Dartmouth.”

 

“Oh?” Emma asked in a neutral tone of polite interest. She had no idea who that was. She could’ve plucked the details from Scott’s consciousness—he wouldn’t even mind—but she prided herself on not needing little hints like that. No longer brushing her hair, she blinked for a long moment to remember.

 

Doug Preston. Mutant. An old student. He’d had the power of shooting flames out of his fingertips like an oxygen acetylene torch. He’d wanted to be a lawyer, but his grades had been borderline. Scott had mentored him, saying he could do anything he set his mind to—typical heroic attitude—while Emma had tried to steer him to trade school.

 

“We made a bet about him,” Scott prompted, not to remind Emma, but to twist the knife.

 

Emma’s eyes widened as she recalled. Yes. She’d bet Scott that Doug would never make it into any reputable law school and he’d asked to make the stakes more interesting. If she won, she’d get his ass for a month— _finally_ getting to peg him—but if he won…

 

If he won, her ass was _his._

“Yeah,” Scott commiserated, able to see that Emma remembered by the way her spine stiffened. “Bend over my desk. You should be used to that right now.”

 

Emma looked to the writing desk in their shared bedroom, the secondary—no, the tertiary workspace Scott used for paperwork. She had indeed bent over it several times, but always on her terms. Tempting him away from anything she deemed less interesting than herself, which was everything.

 

“Right now?” Emma asked tremblingly, not so much frightened as surprised. She knew Scott had his dirty, sexual side, but it was so unlike him for it to come out in the open without being provoked. _I’ve created a monster._

“No time like the present. Besides, I’ve always been the type to open my presents on Christmas Eve instead of Christmas morning.”

 

“You could’ve fooled me,” Emma snipped, dropping her towel to the floor with a satisfying _whump._ It was damp, but she wasn’t dry, her skin dewy with a layer of dampness that would have Scott sliding pleasurably against her if it became a wrestling match. “I didn’t know anyone loved you enough to get you Christmas presents.”

 

“Emma, that hurts,” Scott pouted, mock-wounded.

 

As she passed him, he lashed out with his hand and smacked her on the ass. Emma was no stranger to spankings, but the sheer unexpectedness of the gesture spurted an “ek!” out of her. She felt Scott’s smile on her back as she paraded to the writing desk, feeling every sway in her hips, her ass rebounding with each step. He was going to _use_ it. She hadn’t even tempted him into it. It all felt so… submissive.

 

“Ass out,” Scott continued, and Emma obligingly bent over the desk, her ass thrust out, her damp skin catching the light with a slippery sheen, the tarnished gold of her darkened hair flowing down her back like an arrow pointing to Scott’s target. “Open up the left drawer.”

 

Emma did. Her posture spread her asscheeks, letting her feel the air between her buttocks, the beads of water crawling down her valley and across her anus. When she opened the drawer, she found a vaguely Christmas tree-shaped buttplug and a jar of lubricant, the buttplug with a flanged base that had the famous X-Men logo—red, yellow, and black—on the end.

 

“Property of the X-Men?” Emma asked wryly.

 

“I am the X-Men,” Scott said seriously. “You’re a power-hungry cunt who loves me because I’m the only one who knows how much you like being a submissive bitch too.”

 

Emma smiled. “You’re getting to know me a little too well, love.”

 

“Better all the time,” Scott teased, pressing his right forefinger against her anus. He pushed it inward despite the pressure mounting to keep him out; the wetness of the shower made it easy. With Emma wincing in pain, he slid his finger in up to the first knuckle before he could go no further.

 

“I can’t believe it,” Emma husked, her voice tightened by both pain and the satisfaction she took from being used. “The master tactician can’t lube up his bitch.”

 

“Do I need to?” Scott asked. He ran his left hand between her legs, fingertips sliding over her labia, feeling a warm wetness that was far too copious to come from the shower. His middle finger slipped inside her easily, instantly becoming coated with her sweet juices. “I think you’re enjoying this, Emma. You must really love it when you get to be a dirty little whore—your highness.”

 

Emma’s lips twitched in a pained smile. “Perhaps I’m just a gracious loser.”

 

“Maybe you just like it more when I dom your submissive ass, while you get to pretend you don’t like it.”

 

“What’s there to pretend about?”

 

Scott brought his right hand away from her anus, resting it on the curve of Emma’s hip, squeezing the narrowness of her waist possessively. Emma bit her lip. He couldn’t leave her with any doubt—any wiggle room—any possibility at all of denying she was his. He wasn’t even topping her yet. Not really. He was just making her think about it, want it. What was really dominating her was his cock. That alone was enough to tame her. God, she couldn’t believe she was going to have it in her ass…

 

The forefinger of his left hand was dripping with Emma’s juices, her arousal. Scott pressed it against Emma’s puckered asshole, easily plunging into her, up to the second knuckle now. Emma cried out, her voice guttural and not at all ladylike—revealing her true pleasure and not the coy satisfaction she wished to display.

 

Scott looked down at Emma’s bare back as she writhed and squirmed. “Yeah. You can’t even pretend you don’t like it. Can you? You’ve missed being a whore so much that you’re willing to beg for it. The White Queen…” he finished, sneering disdainfully, only turning Emma on more as he angered her. Any other man she would kill for such an affront, but she couldn’t deny any of it—couldn’t deny him. “Say it!”

 

“Hhhhhhh!” Emma gurgled, vented, her entire being seeming to be concentrated on the intrusion into her anus, the liberty Scott had taken, the claim he’d staked on her very flesh. But if he didn’t own it, how could it feel so good? How could he be making it feel so good? “I love it! I love the way it feels!”

 

“And?” Scott demanded patiently, her asshole wrapped tightly around his wet finger, so tightly that he wondered if his cock would even fit in such a narrow passage. He reached inside her with the pointer finger of his other hand, stroking it along the thin wall that separated cunt and rectum, feeling his other finger inside her.

 

“I love being a whore,” Emma breathed, her pale face actually blushing as she admitted it, ears burning, panting breath coursing out of her as her arousal skyrocketed. “I love being your whore, my king.”

 

“And I love having you for a queen… whore.”

 

Scott took his hands away, leaving Emma gasping, gulping in breath like she’d just run a marathon—dizzy with pleasure and lust, unsure if she wanted to face the humiliation of getting more, but not sure either that she could resist finishing the adventure. She would come so hard, she knew it. She always came hard for him.

 

Finally, unable to decide, unable to _move,_ she simply rested her head against the desktop and waited for Scott to continue. That was the luxury of allowing Scott to dominate her. He handled pesky dilemmas like that. And she was a woman who loved her luxuries.

 

Scott picked up the buttplug and tended to it. He lubricated every inch of it but the base, carefully, assiduously, while Emma regrouped below him, trusting him implicitly to take care of it. He’d made his point, but he would never go so far as to put it in dry. He loved her too much for that. The only kind of pain he could enjoy from her was the kind she thanked him for.

 

Emma gritted her teeth, feeling the cold metallic tip of the buttplug brush between her cheeks, then probe into her anus. Scott’s finger had opened her up, spread her out, but that had been a thin, slender _finger._ This was… this was _Scott._ An everlasting reminder of her submission to him and his ownership of her. She strained, she panted, breathing hard to take it as it kept _opening_ her and _opening_ her, rendering the pressure inside her rectum _nothing,_ not until it was in and she was squeezing tightly around it…

 

“This is going to keep you nice and wide for me,” Scott said fondly, running the fingers of his free hand through Emma’s hair, petting her sweetly. That’s what she was—his pet. “And whenever I want, you’re going to bend over and take it out so I can fuck your ass. You understand? You’re a whore, Emma, and I’m your only client. Your ass is mine to use. It doesn’t belong to you anymore. Now it’s where I put my cum when I don’t want to find a tissue to jerk off into.”

 

Emma’s eyes were rolling up into her head. This proved it. He was her master. She was his, body and soul. No other man could speak to her this way unless it felt this good… her entire body _throbbing_ to be his cum dumpster. And he did it so slowly too. Every word carefully considered, unhurried. Every inch of the buttplug occupying her ass with patient movement, barely any pain, making it clear to her all the pleasure she took from it. She just had to think about when he would do it—tell her to bend over, take the plug out, replace it with his cock—and her pussy clenched. She nearly came. She couldn’t wait. She hated not having anyone worthy of her, no one who could handle her. Scott… Scott knew exactly what she wanted. He knew the only thing you could get for a queen was not being a queen. And she wasn’t when she was with him. She was a slut. A cock holster. A piece of ass. When she wasn’t with him, she could dress up, the servants could bow and scrape, captains of industry and heads of state could kowtow to her—but she’d still feel the heft of the buttplug between her cheeks, reminding her of who she bent over for.

 

Someone knocked at the door. The buttplug still wasn’t in all the way—Scott’s damnable concern for her well-being—she was stretched around the widest part of the taper, feeling like she was going to split open, gasping for the relief of it going in the rest of the way, allowing her to close around the drop-off and have only the base of the plug to remind her who her ass belonged to.

 

“Enter,” Scott said, putting his middle and forefinger on the back of her neck. It was a light, casual gesture, but it did something no amount of force could. It kept Emma in place, bent over his desk, her cheeks spread, a buttplug deep in her anus, all while Scott stood fully dressed over her, his other hand on the buttplug, keeping it from going deeper and keeping it from slipping out. Could there be any doubt who was the king? Or who was his queen?

 

It was Sage. The mutant stepped inside, taking in her mistress’s nudity and her master’s cool, unabashed casualness. Emma was flushed, sweat breaking out over her once clean body—it only turned her on more to have someone else see her like this. Whores didn’t just fuck, after all. Whores _performed._

“There’s been a problem with the oil contracts at Viridian,” Sage announced, her harshly metallic tone almost leavening the sweet humiliation Emma felt. Almost. What care did a computerized mind had that she was a man’s bitch? “The mining company is threatening to sue us for breach of contract. Our lawyers blame the contractors.”

 

Scott nodded. “Prepare an overview of the situation. I’ll want to look over all the necessary documents. And wake Gantz, I’ll want him on it as soon as I’ve decided on a course of action.”

 

Sage bowed in obligatory obeisance. “Yes, White King.”

 

“One other thing,” Scott said. “The White Queen here has lost a bet. As a result, her ass is mine to do with as I please. At the moment, it pleases me to be able to fuck it whenever I wish, with this buttplug keeping her ready for me. I’m making it your responsibility to see to it that she’s wearing it at all times, except when bodily functions are necessary. So, whenever you deem it necessary, you will ask that Emma show you her ass so you can make sure she has it in. If she doesn’t, you will report to me.” He tapped on the buttplug with his fingers, sending it skittering a few precious centimeters into Emma’s rectum. She gaped—she could feel it about to slide home. On the very cusp… “And Emma will be severely punished.”

 

Sage nodded. “Yes, White King.”

 

Scott flicked his forefinger into the buttplug and _finally,_ it was in. Emma heaved a sigh in comingled relief and release. She felt orgasmic— _complete._

Scott patted her on the ass. “You should get some sleep, Emma. You look beat.”

 

Emma managed to pry her face from where she’d rested it on the desk. “Aren’t you going to… you’ve gotten me ready… aren’t you going to?”

 

“You heard Sage.” Scott pointed to her. “I have business to attend to.”

 

Sage nodded like there was a flywheel in her neck. “I’ve gathered the necessary files and forwarded them to your computer in the den. Would you also like refreshments, sir?”

 

“Some orange slices. An espresso. And help Emma to the bed, would you? Despite the rumors, she isn’t used to walking around with a stick up her ass.”


	2. Chapter 2

Emma laid on the bed, her panties the only thing she wore underneath her babydoll nightie. The nightie essentially had no front, but was tied together over her cleavage by a large ribbon, covering her breasts and not much else—the two halves of the nightie hung like curtains over her lean stomach and svelte hips, falling to her sides to leave entirely bare the trim white panties crowning her long legs. She had fallen asleep waiting for Scott to return and finish what he had started. But now, yawning awake, she saw that whatever business Scott had attended to, he’d finished it, and returned to lie down on his side of the bed, on top of the covers, naked.

 

Predictably, Emma turned onto her side and considered Scott. His trust in her, lying down and falling asleep next to someone as dangerous as any wild animal. She could do whatever she wanted to his mind; it was a toss-up if even his will would be able to resist her. She ran her finger over his lips. The soft intake of his breath took no notice of her. She tapered her finger over his jutting chin, down his throat, feeling the swollen pecs of his chest and then the striations of muscle along his abdomen. Finally coming to his cock.

 

It was huge. Still thick and weighty even when flaccid, and Emma almost moaned as she remembered all the times he had used it on her, fully erect and staying that way for what seemed like hours before she finally managed to coax his seed out of him. She gripped him in her hand, squeezing his cock, stroking it, feeling life return to the huge phallus. The inexorable memories continued, as she thought of the many times Scott had broken her so sweetly. No bondage, no toys, just the steady, precise pistoning of that massive tool inside of her. She ended up drunk with satisfaction, lost in her own submission to Scott, cock-dazed and absolutely fucked—coming repeatedly as if she were doing so to please Scott… reward him for the gift of his prick with the tightness of her clenching pussy.

 

Emma allowed herself a naughty smile as Scott grew harder, his cock becoming the mighty weapon she was so used to servicing. Perhaps it wasn’t empowering or stylish or graceful, but nothing made her come like that big, ugly cock. And as much as she feared it, much as she resented the thought of losing the initiative to Scott again and being his bitch once more instead of the White Queen… she knew she would come better than ever with that bastard of a cock up her ass.

 

Coming up to her knees, Emma stretched and preened, enjoying the perverse decadence of looking so wonderful while Scott was not conscious to appreciate it. As if her beauty were so special it was reserved only for herself, like with the harems of the sultans of old, that no other man was permitted to gaze upon. Only she was the sultan here.

 

She settled onto all fours and crawled to Scott’s midsection, enjoying the sight of his burgeoning erection at close range. Her thoughts followed familiar tracks; she was a good enough telepath to know the patterns in even her own thinking. There was a flicker of trepidation at the thought of literally gagging herself on such an enormous prick, the relish of the challenge, and the fitful little taboo of pleasing another when she herself was so much more deserving. Didn’t Scott know that far from being asleep, he should be waiting every waking moment for his next chance to taste her delectable pussy?

 

On second thought, though, part of the reason she was such a superior woman was the incredible pleasure she could bring to her chosen mate. _I’ll certainly prove that,_ she thought, taking one last whiff of Scott’s aroused musk before opening her mouth and bringing it down on that impossibly large member.

 

Scott’s eyes slowly opened beneath his sleep mask, only to close again as he felt Emma’s mouth, warm as a sweaty summer day, around his manhood. Her tongue ran wild over his excited flesh—Scott could barely think to grope to the nightstand and pick up his sunglasses, closing his eyes as he replaced the blindfold with see-through ruby quartz. Now he saw Emma, kneeling beside his head, almost sixty-nining with him as she bent down to his lap and snaked her tongue around his cockhead. She was great at this, wonderful—the face of an angel concealing the mouth of a succubus.

 

Scott looked over to Emma’s lower body next to his head. The creamy thighs, nicely thick, corded with running muscles as they led in to the sweep of her buttocks, gilded with the white gold of her translucent lace panties. Her ass was toned, well-shaped, the panties not so much hiding it as framing it. He reached out and ran his hand over her groin, feeling it screaming for sex, the response to his touch in her sucking mouth. He fingered her clit, then had to groan as her lips tightened on his endowment, as if wanting his cum so bad she would pull off his cock to get it.

 

“Good, Emma, very good. But let’s see if the White Queen can follow instructions from her master.” He reached between her thighs and felt her ass playfully, until he felt the buttplug concealed beneath her panties. Scott wouldn’t mind replacing it with himself, his cock deep between her firm buttocks, driving into her bowels. But her mouth was too much temptation for him to spurn.

 

Emma evidently agreed. She didn’t relinquish his cock to talk to him—not when she had a hotline straight into his brain. _Tell me, darling, when I wake you up like this, is your first thought that it’s me, or Jean?_

Scott reversed course with his right hand, going back to her sex and fingering it while his left hand palmed Emma’s head, keeping his cock in her open mouth. “All that matters is there’s a wet hole.”

 

Emma chuckled with purring reverberations around his prick. _Yet here you are, Scott. Fucking_ this _wet hole. Admit it—better to rule in Hellfire than to serve Xavier._

“Why don’t you stop sucking my cock—and start taking it?”

 

Emma popped her lips off of his glans, savoring having the flavor of his cock in the saliva that filled her mouth before she swallowed it, kissed his helmet with pursed lips, and padded down to the foot of the bed on all fours. She ended up facing away from him, her ass in the air, her panties turning dark as her arousal spread through them. “Do you have enough?” she asked, waving her hips from side to side. “I can take an awful lot.”

 

Scott got up onto his knees, eying the ribbon of white fabric that ran between her buttocks and through her parted thighs. Moving behind her, he tugged her panties down to mid-thigh, seeing that the buttplug was off-center. The X on its base was a plus sign. _Yeah, this sure is a plus. A plus to putting up with a sadistic, amoral, elitist bitch._

“You forgot needy,” Emma pouted. “I need that big cock in my snatch and I need to come like a bitch in heat. Don’t you like it when I come that way? When you hurt me? I know I do. We both get off on how that cock destroys my cunt. I may be a whore, Scott, but you’re my pimp.”

 

Scott guided himself into her dripping sex, plunging his member into her effortlessly—a perfect fit. Emma sighed lovingly as he made his stroke to the very depths of her cunt, almost to her cervix. She was just tight enough to have room for all of him.

 

“ _Hg!”_ she gaped, feeling him impale her on the first thrust. She’d admitted to being a whore, but her ears still burned a little to have it confirmed with such ease. She was wetter than a riverbed, and all of it from sucking his cock. “ _That_ could be Jean’s wet hole, I’ll admit. She keeps herself pretty tight considering all of you X-Men are in love with her. And maybe if you were the kind of man who were content just to fuck my pussy, you’d be satisfied with her. But you’re like me, my king. You want _more.”_

Scott tugged the buttplug from her asshole, Emma mewling as it spewed lubricant in its wake. Her rectum warmed up even hotter, spread and ready for his prick.

“I want _you,”_ Scott said, taking his lubricated cock from her slit and putting it against her asshole.

 

“Fucking romantic,” Emma breathed, her voice rising with surprise. “Scott, I think—think you may be too big—tear me in half—Scott, please!”

 

“Don’t safe word, you little slut.” He pushed his cockhead into the tight embrace of her anus, working her clenched sphincter open with little prods of his member. “I _know_ you. You want me to fuck you while you beg for mercy. You want me to ruin your ass the way I ruin your cunt.”

 

Emma nearly purred, smiling despite herself. “Is that what I want, Scott? _Gg!_ For you to ravage my ass like some conqueror? Nnn--like you’d never, ever do to your sweet little Jean? _Mmmm…”_

Scott patted her hip condescendingly. “You and your rape fantasies. As if you’re anywhere near enough of a dom to put up a fight. Just relax and enjoy it, Emma. I’ve been wanting to fuck your ass since the first time you bent over in that fetishwear you call a costume. But if it’s any consolation, you’re real tight. Even tighter than Jean. Yeah… now it’s in… it’s fucking _in!”_

Emma sobbed in pain, but still had the presence of mind to ease her clenching muscles. It boggled her mind, but she was letting Scott push into her ass, inch after inch of his steely erection entering her, further impaling her, filling her with pain and delight until both were more than she’d ever thought she’d feel.

 

“You’re killing me, _hh…_ you’re fucking my ass! God, Scott, it hurts so good—hurt me, you bitch! Fuck me until it hurts too much! Then—yes, yes!—keep fucking me!”

 

Emma wailed as he bottomed out in her tortured anus, sodomizing her as Emma had thought she never would be—her most taboo place used for a man’s pleasure. This was no softly licking tongue, not even a coyly thin finger, but a fat cock that was tearing into her. Fucking her apart. Moving in and out of her, never being denied, speeding up with inexorable acceleration until she was forced to take his entire shaft plunging in and out of her.

 

Tears streamed down Emma’s cheeks as she enjoyed herself. The woeful pain gave way to lustful fulfillment, the heat of the friction melting her pussy, sending what felt like a flood of her cream over her thighs. She lunged back with worshipful need, driving herself onto his impaling cock with blissful enjoyment.

 

“Yes! Ohhh Scott, _fuck me!_ Fuck my ass! I don’t care if you rip me apart—I’m coming! Shit, Scott, I’m coming so hard… you’re making me come… you’re fucking _fucking me!”_

Emma heaved and pumped herself on the very impalement of her ass as if her anus were an eager mouth, tightening on Scott’s cock, trying to suck and massage the cum out of its monstrous girth.

 

Scott smirked, gratified not only that Emma had ended up enjoying her submission, but also that she could accommodate him in her ass, just as he’d thought. He pistoned himself into her with maddened need. “Take it, cunt. Take every inch of my cock— _hhh!—_ and then every drop of my cum. Shit… fucking goddamn, you’re tight! Emma, you good little… cock-hungry whore! Your ass is my fuckhole now! You’d better get used to it being— _ha!—_ full of cum! I’m fucking it every day!”

 

“Yes, yes, my ass is yours, Scott! _Ghhhh!_ I’m yours! _”_ Emma bowed her head and bit down on a fold of her bed’s fitted sheet. She continued speaking in a deafening mental roar that only Jean Grey’s man could be practiced enough to withstand. _NOT JUST YOUR WHORE! YOUR WOMAN!_

 

It was time. She needed it, she wanted it, but she could be more than just a hole for Scott to pound. She rolled over, her own slender-muscled body forcing Scott onto his back. The sheet still in her teeth tugged the whole thing out from under the mattress, making it bloom upward as she beached herself on Scott’s supine body, raising her hips into the air and then hammering them down against Scott’s groin, driving herself down on his cock, thinking of nothing but the massive penetration she was accepting into her ass again and again.

 

She reeled, coming as she never had before, her juices jetting from her cunt as the orgasm devoured her completely. Her breasts bounced liquidly, her voice keened as she kept throwing herself onto Scott’s cock, her anal muscles clenching and tensing, massaging him like a forceful hand demanding his cum. Scott gave a piercing howl as he came like a volcano into the sheath of Emma’s ass. He lost control as much as Emma had, his ejaculation as explosive as his optic blast, surrendering for a perfect moment to the pleasure Emma offered him--the immovable object giving into her unstoppable force.

 

Emma may have been a whore, but she was a damned good whore. And Scott, Scott was a fucking _challenge._

 

“RRNNGGGHHH!” Scott cried, his cock powering into Emma endlessly, cum filling her tortured ass, running down over her cunt when there was no more room in her bowels. Emma moaned loudly as the heat of his seed demanded more pleasure from her overwrought pussy. She came again, a trickle of saliva running from the corner of her mouth while Scott continued plowing her ass, draining his balls into the vise of her asshole as it still tried desperately to hold him.

 

When Scott pulled out, Emma was flat on her belly, her mind so dazed from what she’d felt that she was on the verge of unconsciousness. She was only woken by Scott forcing the buttplug back inside her, trapping his copious ejaculate inside Emma for the night. Then, with Emma moaning and mewling, half-awake and half lost in bliss, Scott rolled her gently onto her back. He straddled her face and set his half-hard cock against her lips. Emma’s mouth opened instinctively and she took his prick, sucking on it without having to be told.

 

Other men were easy, worthless, but Scott made her work for it. She’d been a whore for so many; now just for him. And he deserved having an anal whore, an ATM whore. He paid for it in coin Emma couldn’t get anywhere else.

 

Scott petted Emma’s golden hair, her experiencing his words more as another comforting pressure like his touch, a sweet balm like men were supposed to be for women. She only trusted it from Scott. All men wanted to hurt her—she was a bitch, after all. But Scott hurt her like no one else could even _dream of._

 

“That’s it, Emma. Lick it clean. Lick all the cum off me—get my cock nice and clean. Kiss my balls too, while you’re at it. Show me how much you appreciate that I made you come so much. Kiss my nice, clean cock and dream about the next time I decide you deserve to come on it.”

 

Although only half-hearing his words, Emma did as she was told, lapping the cum from Scott’s groin as her last conscious act before she lost herself entirely in contentment, falling asleep with a dash of his seed on the corner of her lips.

 

Fully drained and cooled down from the peaks of mutual dominance and pleasure that Emma had brought him to—in her own unique way, mixing her rapt submission with the masterful display of her skill in the willful way that Scott found so attractive about her—Scott hauled Emma’s sleeping body up to the pillows, the sticky juices that coated her lower body leaving a trail across the mattress and further distorting the undone sheet. No matter. The servants would replace all the sheets—indeed, the whole bed, if he willed it—in the morning.

 

Scott laid Emma down, taking one last look at her before he returned his sunglasses to the nightstand and put his sleep mask back on. He pulled what he could untangle of the comforter over them and wrapped her in his arms for good measure.

 

Emma unclenched herself, with a last little afterglow as she relaxed into his embrace, her hips twitching against his in either a final aftershock of her multiple orgasms or an attempt to conjure another erection from him. She quickly settled, though… Scott kissing her ear and wiping the cum from her mouth with his finger, putting it in her mouth so she could suck even that last dewy drop. She did, suckling his finger as she slept, and Scott buried his nose in her hair as he closed his eyes.

 

“I love you.”

 

_And I love you, Scott. As well as your cock._

“I love your ass,” Scott added with a yawn, recognizing Emma fishing for compliments.

 

_You’d better. You have an entire month to fuck it—and I certainly won’t get tired of sodomy._

“I won’t get tired of you either.”

 

_You already said you love me—my king._


End file.
